


Dazed

by risquetendencies



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M, Older Characters, University Setting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-20 14:05:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11337027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/risquetendencies/pseuds/risquetendencies
Summary: Bokuto isn't sure about much when he wakes up on the bathroom floor, but he's sure he had a good time last night. Just how good, he's about to find out.





	Dazed

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for an anonymous drabble request on Tumblr - Prompt #6: _“Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?”_

****His face is on something cold. And kind of uncomfortable, if he’s being totally honest.

Blinking himself awake, Koutarou sits straight up, eager to get away from the awful pillow he’s been resting his head on. When he looks down at it, though, he finds himself blinking again. Huh, so it was the floor. Of the bathroom, he continues to observe, scanning his surroundings.

Why here?

Koutarou tries to think back to last night, scouting his recollections for some reason why he’d ended up where he was. But nothing comes to mind. In fact, his brain feels hollowed out and empty. Apart from that, he feels great. It isn’t like he’s sick, which could have been a reason for him to end up here. After all, if he’s gonna throw up, the bathroom is a prime place to do that.

He resigns himself – it’s a mystery.

More awake now, he notices he’s hungry. Breakfast sounds enticing, even though he’ll be the one making it. None of his roommates ever wake up early enough to cook _and_ eat, so the job falls to him. At least they rotate on who does the other meals and chores. As much as Koutarou likes cooking, it’s nice to have a break sometimes and just be the one eating the food.

Yeah, he decides, he’s hungry.

Koutarou scrambles to his feet and goes over to the bathroom mirror, checking out his reflection. Prompted by what he sees, he glances further down, noticing his distinct lack of clothes. All he has on is his boxers. Okay, putting some more on should be his first stop, then. Cooking bacon in just underwear is a bad idea.

He exits the bathroom and walks across the hall to his room. The door is open a sliver, which makes it easy to push open and step inside. Once he steps through however, Koutarou squints at the dark surroundings. The blinds are firmly shut on the window by his bed, and if he ever made it to bed last night, he hadn’t turned on his lamp.

That train of thought stirs something in his mind, and within minutes, Koutarou remembers.

Last night there had been a lot of sake, and a lot of barbecue too. An all-around good night, though he doesn’t remember much more than that it happened, and that it had been to celebrate the end of the semester. But that’s enough, he thinks. Maybe he’d gone to the bathroom in case he got sick, but had lucked out in not getting sick. It all makes sense now.

Reaching to his left, Koutarou flicks on the overhead light. And then he freezes mid-step as his bedroom, and by extension what’s _in_ his bedroom, comes into view.

Draped across his bed, lying face down and without a stitch of clothing on him, is Akaashi. He only knows it’s him for reasons that are too embarrassing to admit to, but that include having a well-formed idea of what Akaashi’s butt looks like, but with shorts. Yet even without shorts on them, the shape matches Koutarou’s memory perfectly. As do Akaashi’s thighs, which are leanly muscled and just as fondly catalogued in his brain.

But if he’s not wearing shorts, then that can only mean that his-

Koutarou splutters for air, breaking free from his idle thoughts.

He does a quick double-take to establish that yes, all of Akaashi appears to be naked, and the entire front of him appears to be pressed down into his comforter.

It’s a lot to process.

He’s not sure what to do. Grab some clothes as quietly as he can and then leave? Wake Akaashi up?

Koutarou shakes his head. No, because then Akaashi will know he’d saw him. And it’s not like he’d meant to see him naked. It’s a total accident, and while Koutarou won’t go as far as to say he _regrets_ seeing the sight, he wasn’t going out of his way to try and see it. So, it’s probably best if Akaashi doesn’t even know it happened. That way he can be at ease and stuff. That’s the smart solution.

Nodding this time, Koutarou resolutely swivels around to rifle through his dresser.

First up is his underwear drawer. He glances back down at the boxers he’s wearing, debating his options. He could just keep them for another day, but – no, he probably should go for new ones. The bathroom floor isn’t super clean. It never is, unless it’s Kuroo’s week to clean it.

He grabs a fresh pair, a shirt, and shorts, bundling them all under an arm as he makes a little half turn toward the door. Before he leaves, though, Koutarou gives his bed a parting look.

And winds up getting an eyeful of the front of Akaashi as he slowly, grudgingly it seems, sits up on the mattress.

His mind flickers to life again, panic surging to the front of it. He ought to say something. Something normal, like good morning, to downplay how awkward the situation is. To smooth things over.

“Why’re you naked?”

Akaashi seems to notice him standing there for the first time. 

His first move other than looking Koutarou’s way is to reach for the blankets. He yanks them over the lower regions of his body, much to both their relief. Once he’s covered, he smooths down the covers, and delicately clears his throat. 

“I think perhaps… I took them off. It was hot last night.”

Still, Koutarou can’t quite meet Akaashi’s gaze. His face feels like it’s burning, and his mouth is a traitor, having said what he was trying not to say. It’s hardly the first time that’s happened, but this seems like one of the worst times ever for it to happen.

“Why my bed, though?”

“I…” Akaashi pauses, and then his expression shifts to one of disbelief. “Do you remember anything, Bokuto-san?”

Now he can’t exactly be sure, but Koutarou thinks something sounds suspicious about that question. Of course, there’s already a lot going on that’s suspicious. Case in point, a very naked, admittedly attractive, guy that he likes in his bed for unknown reasons.

“Not really?”

“Nothing at all?”

“Nope.”

Akaashi stares at him, and Koutarou stares back. He gets the feeling that there’s an unspoken message he’s supposed to be getting, or maybe Akaashi’s trying to make him remember the night through eye contact alone. Or maybe it’s none of that, but Koutarou keeps their gazes locked just in case it sparks something.

After a charged minute, Akaashi breaks their connection first, and lets out a weary sigh. Raising a hand, he rubs it along the edge of his face slowly, hand lingering over his mouth for several seconds before he drops his arm. During that period, he seems like he’s made a decision.

“I am certain I will regret being so blunt, but… we were together last night.”

Koutarou gapes, but no matter how hard he stares, Akaashi won’t meet his eyes again.

“Together, like–” he starts haltingly, feeling a blush creep up his neck.

But he’s soon interrupted.

“Not in the way you’re thinking,” Akaashi cuts in.

“How do you know what I’m thinking?!” Koutarou blurts out, red-faced and feeling a little helpless under the sway of his imagination.

“You look like you’re about to steam from your ears, Bokuto-san. I’m sure I can imagine what you thought of just now.”

Koutarou feels like he’s hearing the roar of a train crashing through his ears. He can’t answer Akaashi’s statement with anything halfway good because it’s true. He thought of things. Things that he can’t erase from his brain yet. He’s curious and flustered, and clueless as to how he could have forgotten something like that. His memory after a couple of drinks has never been the best, but he feels like any significant occasion involving Akaashi should have been important enough to break through the hangover haze.

The thing is, he’s toyed with the idea of confessing for a long time now, but had never worked up the nerve. Akaashi and he have been buddies for years, and for a big chunk of that, he’s had feelings toward him that are more than a bit friendly.

What Koutarou wishes he remembered more than anything, more even than whatever had gone down itself is – how had that balanced tipped? Did he confess after all? He wishes he could know the face Akaashi had made, how things had gone from Point A to Point B during the night. Because now all he’s left with is an explanation of good times without any of the residual good feelings to bask in.

It makes him feel a little sad.

“Come sit down and we’ll discuss it.”

A line he’s heard hundreds of times, as far back as when they’d had their first captain and vice-captain strategy meeting in high school.

Dutifully, Koutarou crosses the room, setting down his pile of clothes next to where he sits on the edge of the bed. His face heats up a little again when he accidentally looks into Akaashi’s eyes. They’re closer now, and he’s able to admire just how dark of a green they are. Right up until his mind offers the question – what had they looked like when they were even closer to him? The idea prompts Koutarou to straighten up and train his gaze elsewhere.

“So, uh,” he says after some deliberation, and a decided lack of an opener from Akaashi, “What did you mean when you said that we were, uh… ya know….”

“Some of the details are fuzzy, but I know that we kissed. A few times. Here.”

The end of that statement sends the tiniest of shivers down Koutarou’s back. Here then, he thinks. Right where we’re sitting. Maybe even in the exact same spots.

It takes him a while to unclench his jaw enough to respond.

“You made it sound like,” Koutarou laughs nervously, daring to look at him again, “other stuff was happening. But a kiss ain’t so bad.”

Something in Akaashi’s face solidifies until his expression is as uniformly bland as concrete.

“I see. Well, now that we are both aware, next time perhaps it can be prevented.”

Koutarou tilts his head, brows furrowing.

“Did I make you uncomfortable, ‘Kaashi?” he asks.

Part of him wonders how he got the wrong impression out of their talk. Maybe he hadn’t confessed after all? Or maybe a tipsy Akaashi turned into a kissy Akaashi, and it didn’t mean he liked him like _he_ liked Akaashi? Koutarou had never really been sober enough to notice any of the other times they’d drank together.

But if that’s really the truth, then right now, his feelings are being rejected. He’s not sure how well he’ll be able to hide his disappointment, because it’ll be like a double rejection. Knowing Akaashi doesn’t like him that way, and that the only memory he might have had of kissing the guy he likes, he’ll never know about.

It’s enough to strike a chord within him. Koutarou fidgets on the bed’s edge, casting his weight from one side to the other. He waits.

“If anything, I should think you’d be the uncomfortable one, Bokuto-san. I kissed you first.”

Koutarou stills.

“And you, uh, wouldn’t do that normally?”

“We aren’t in a relationship,” Akaashi answers.

Koutarou nods to himself, like that reply makes sense, though it might as well have been in runes for all he’s understanding from it. It doesn’t answer the bigger question, which is if the kisses had been a fluke or not. He needs to know that so much that it’s beginning to burn through his veins, the urge to just blurt it out.

“I’m… okay though,” he manages, curbing some of the impulse, “I’m not uncomfortable and stuff that we did.”

A flicker of something breaks through the concrete façade masking Akaashi’s face.

“That’s generous of you,” he tells Koutarou cautiously.

“Not really? I mean, I just wish I remembered more about it, but it’s cool.”

Giving a diplomatic shrug, Koutarou settles in his post, willing himself to be composed. But that’s harder by the second. Akaashi is proving a tough egg to crack. Not that he doesn’t already know that, but when Koutarou genuinely needs information, it’s a frustrating characteristic for his love interest to have.

Oh. Love interest.

Warmth bubbles up inside him again, and it quiets him down to a level that a librarian would appreciate, if not expect, from someone like Koutarou, ever.

Would it be so crazy just to come out and ask? If he’s thinking about it, nothing Akaashi has said so far makes it seem like he’d be angry if Koutarou admitted the idea of them kissing was good. Honestly, Akaashi almost seems like he’s being tight-lipped for a reason.

“If that is all, I think I will go get dressed.”

Akaashi rises then, deftly commandeering one of the loose blankets on the bed to wrap around him. He circles it around his torso as high up as it can go, making the blankets look like some sort of strange robes he’s wearing. Koutarou remembers – Akaashi had never liked getting changed in front of everyone in the locker room either. He’d gone through with it, but the vibes coming off him in those days were palpable. You didn’t look in his direction unless you wanted the evil eye turned back at you.

Yet, for some reason, he’d obviously felt safe peeling off his clothes here.

Koutarou wrinkles his nose.

There are too many mixed signals here for him to be satisfied with the conversation. Too much he doesn’t know. It makes him feel antsy, and in a flash, he decides he’s had enough.

“I like kissing you!” he exclaims triumphantly. Then the word choice sinks in, and Koutarou realizes, oh. That was more like two things he’d wanted to say squished together.

Akaashi shoots him a look. It’s not the evil eye, but it’s definitely not all good either. He’s surprised, Koutarou guesses. Maybe a little frustrated?

“You remember now?”

“No!” Koutarou interjects quickly. “I mean I wish I did but that’s not what I meant!”

“Then what _do_ you mean, Bokuto-san?”

He steels himself, puffing up his chest a little and tries to look as serious as he can.

“I like you, Akaashi.”

“Oh.” The fingers of Akaashi’s hand that are holding up his blanket quaver slightly.

“Even if you kissed me because you can’t handle your sake, I want you to know that.” Koutarou smiles.

“Let’s clear some things up, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi’s voice is sharp, like the edge of a newly-honed blade.

“First off, you are able to tolerate more alcohol because your body mass is higher. You should remember this fact from that time Kuroo-san thought he was being smart by telling the entire party about it.”

Koutarou blinks. His mouth comes open but he can’t think of what to say. He doesn’t even know what point Akaashi’s gunning to make. Yet.

“Secondly, you stole several of my barbecue skewers – yes, I noticed – and therefore ate more to counteract what you drank. I did not have that luxury. So of course, I was more susceptible to the aftereffects.”

“Wait, are you mad about the food, or the drinking stuff? It’s okay if you’re a lightweight, you know…”

“The food, primarily. But,” Akaashi breathes in deeply before continuing, “Last, I think it’s worth noting that despite my apparent lightweight status, I remember the previous evening. You do not.”

Koutarou feels obliged to stand too.

“I was just teasing ya… a bit!” he insists, waving both hands out in front of him.

“But I really meant it when I said I liked you. I wish I could remember everything about the other night! It sucks that I don’t,” he finishes, losing volume until his voice drifts away entirely.

“I suppose I should refresh your memory, then.”

Koutarou’s head snaps up, and he’s staring into those lovely dark eyes again. He feels the determination coming off Akaashi as he advances, and oddly, it causes him to relax, posture going loose. He instinctively closes his eyes.

When he feels the press of lips on his, Koutarou melts further. Savors the way they fit together, both a little rough and chapped but eager for each other. He’s soon in awe, and struck by the sudden realization that somehow, some part of his body remembers this feeling. It warms him from the inside out.

Akaashi steps back finally, and Koutarou without thinking, follows, pitching forward to snag one last kiss. His hand lingers on Akaashi’s cheek for a second longer, but he does let go.

“Wow,” he breathes out. “We did that last night too?”

He might be dreaming it, but Koutarou thinks there’s a hint of color on Akaashi’s face too.

“Yes. And we could do it another time, if….”

“If?!” he presses, perking up at the suggestion.

“If you can make me a suitable breakfast.”

Koutarou grins confidently.

“Now that, I can do!”

But, he thinks to himself, he should still probably put on a shirt first.


End file.
